Aug 23, 2022
2 min read
Sir Eliot, April is The Cruelest Month Because…
A free-verse poem
It brings back all of it. All of life.
All of the moments I missed seeing the fingernail sun dipping inside the horizon.
All the times when my mother herself asked me to eat moonbeams but I was satisfied with eating filth just because she asked me to eat filth before she realized that I loved only the…
